


Fantasy vs Reality

by TheOnlyCoffeeIsStrongCoffee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Filthy February, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Rey is thirsty, Sex, but rey's into it, fantasies, tags to be updated in chapter 2, they bang in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyCoffeeIsStrongCoffee/pseuds/TheOnlyCoffeeIsStrongCoffee
Summary: Ten months after the defection that changed the course of the war, Rey comes to terms with her ever building attraction for Ben Solo.Or, When Force Bonds Accidentally Show the Object of Your Affection What You Look Like When You Orgasm.Mostly porn, maybe a minuscule amount of plot if you squint. Twoshot.





	Fantasy vs Reality

It was ten months after the defection that changed the tides of war when Rey first dreamt of Ben Solo.

He had made numerous appearances in her dreams beforehand, certainly, but the first time she _dreamt of_ him ...

Well. It threw her for quite a loop.

 She had awoken with a jolt, her chest heaving and sheets damp with sweat as she attempted to cast off the spectre of sleep.

Rey had all but thrown herself into the fresher that morning, dousing her head under the frigid water and resolutely avoiding Ben all day. The moment she caught wind of his his force signature approaching, she would make her excuses and scurry away to a different part of the base, and on one memorable occasion, even jumped into the nearby fast-flowing river in a blind panic. It had taken over an hour for Rey to trudge back to base through Yavin IV’s thick, jungle brush, only to be greeted by a frantic Poe demanding an explanation for The Last Jedi’s unscheduled absence. 

One tongue lashing and extra mess duties later, Rey’s efforts ultimately proved to be all for nought when she came face-to-face with the subject of her dreams in the food line.

Rey quickly squeaked out a “hello” by way of greeting, and dropped a serving of Kodari rice on his plate before pretending to concentrate on the next resistance member in line, too distracted to notice that, no, he'd really rather not have any rice today, thank you.

Thankfully, Ben either hadn’t noticed, or, more likely had the tact not to mention her skittish behaviour and things soon returned to normal around base; x-wings were serviced, supply runs were carried out, Rey and Ben attempted to piece together some of the more obscure forms of lightsaber combat lost to the sands of time.

Rey was immensely relieved that her nocturnal visit from Ben appeared to have been a one off, however, certain details became a lot more difficult to ignore moving forward.

The dips between his abdominal muscles, for example. The raised veins that trailed down his biceps, even at rest. The way the muscles in his thighs would tense and contract during his morning laps, the way drops of sweat would trail down the rippling lines of his back in the jungle heat.

Once Rey had come to terms with the fact that she not only liked Ben Solo, but that she _wanted_ him, wanted him in such a way that she life became substantially more difficult whenever he took his shirt off, she began to wonder.

She began to wonder what life would be like had Ben Solo never fallen, had she still managed to find her way to the resistance without the spectre of Kylo Ren chasing her down.

She would imagine what this careful dance, this tentative flirtation they nurtured in their training sessions might yield, had they both been somewhat whole and healthy when they met. 

One afternoon she had walked into the service hanger, having heard the distinct sound of Chewbacca swearing up a storm to find him staggering around near one of the _Falcon’s_ exhaust ports, his head and shoulders liberally coated in motor oil andbemoaning how long it would take to wash out of his fur.

Behind him, however, was Ben, trying valiantly to suppress a smile.

The image of Ben laughing discreetly behind Chewbacca’s back — his head bowed and cheeks dimpled, thumb rubbing the side of his nose, that one slightly crooked canine glinting in the sun — lodged itself in Rey’s mind like a holo. He looked so painfully young in that moment.

That laughing Ben would appear in her fantasies, prowling the corridors of the base after curfew, darting between the sightlines of patrolling droids and slinking through the night to seek her out.

The first few times Rey allowed her imagination to wander like this, into the realms of pulpy romance flimsies, she berated herself for fixating on such small, inconsequential details - _did it really matter what season it was or what colour the fucking sheets were?_ \- before she relaxed into the swing of things. This was her fantasy; she could damn well choose the specifics as she pleased.

_It would be a stifling, humid night,_ she decided _. Too warm for bedclothes. The blankets would be tangled at the foot of her bed as she lay on her stomach, limbs spread carelessly across the mattress. So very different from how she usually slept._

_An oversized undershirt and panties were all she would be able to stand to wear in the blasted humidity._

_The highest window would be flung open, a breeze tickling its way along her body. Even if she couldn’t fall asleep, she could close her eyes and enjoy the sensation of the air moving over her clammy skin, the phantom sensation travelling along her calves, the backs of her thighs, to the slightly damp crotch of her underwear. Not quite enough to arouse, but enough to bask in the feeling of, and enjoy the simple pleasure of a welcome breeze on a hot night._

_A faint ‘beep’ would sound as the lock of her door was bypassed, the durasteel opening just enough to allow his hulking form into her room, his shoulders twisting to fit through the gap._

_She would quickly close her eyes and suppress a smile, focusing on the scratchy pillow beneath her cheek and not the blazing force signature standing a few feet away_.

_“I know you’re awake,” he would say after a few moments._

_Her chest would continue to rise and fall rhythmically. As if he couldn’t detect the restrained excitement in the force, a livewire crackling, just waiting to ignite._

_“No?” she would hear the smile in his voice._

_Then footsteps, muffled by the rug she had laid at the foot of her bed._

As her hands began to slowly - so slowly - skate up and down her torso, in her mind’s eye it was the same Lothcat pelt she saw earlier that day in the market, on the supply run with Chewie. 

_Ben would have sourced it for her, catching her longing gaze aimed at the fluffy orange thing before haggling down the trader, with the skills only the son of a politician and smuggler could lay claim to._

_“Most un-Jedi like”, C3PO would sniff. Ben would tease her afterwards, say it was the most garish thing he had ever seen in his life, but she would have clutched it to her chest and treasured it._

_“That’s a shame,” he’d sigh at her apparent state of slumber, the mattress dipping where he sat near her knees. A long, elegant finger would trace the bones of her ankle, and Rey would will her muscles to stay lax._

_“I think I know a way to wake you up.”_

A secret Rey daren’t ever give voice to, was how much she _enjoyed_ the frisson of nervous energy she would feel whenever Ben caught her on the back foot during their sparring sessions and hold her in place with the force; her heart would lurch in place as he stalked around her, waiting for her to yield or break his chains with a frustratingly smug look on his face. 

He could do any number of things to her in those moments.

Rey couldn’t begin to imagine the response she might garner if she said so. She knew Finn would be horrified, could almost hear him question her sanity; _how_ she could enjoy being held in place by a man who had done the same thing to her barely a year earlier in order to spirit her away from Takodana?

_Rey would feel that telltale lightness in her body that announced her limbs were no longer hers to control for the meantime. Curiously, her hands and head were left untouched, and she resisted the temptation to flex them experimentally, lest she give the game away._

_It was a concentrated effort to keep her breathing steady - deep and slow, as a peaceful sleep would yield - when she could all but_ feel _his eyes roaming over her body._

_Ben would sigh peacefully as he palmed her calf, sliding his hand down to her ankle and up again, his calluses scratching a pleasant path._

_“This looks familiar,” he would murmur, his hand drifting higher, engulfing the silky smooth skin of her thigh to pinch the hem of her nightwear._

_His hand would begin trace patterns on the inside of her thigh, loops and whorls and ovals, occasionally venturing beneath the hem of his commandeered shirt to where her legs met the neat curve of her behind._

_She would cast off his force restraints to roll her hips back onto his fingers, a petty show of power - she was here because she wanted to be here; she had only deigned to play along with the illusion of restraint because of what it did for the both of them, how this blatant disregard for the application of the force fed the longing, the aching_ hunger _they shared._

Even in her fantasy, Ben skated on a knife’s edge between light and dark, was lured by its potential, its wickedness. 

The language of the Sith was one of seduction, one so full of promises, of sinful whispers and sweet nothings fed into a lover’s ear, that Rey recoiled when she first broached the subject with Master Skywalker on Ach-To, feeling so very childish at the verbal knuckle-rapping she had received for her questions.

The innate attraction Rey felt for its writings left her feeling sullied, ashamed of her fascination, the curiosity she felt. 

But not here.

Her fingers ducked beneath the hem of her panties and skated over her skin, tracing the tendons between her hip and groin, arrows leading to a target. Her skin was soft, untouched by the elements, and she hissed when the callous of her finger dragged across her clit, a sharp strum of pleasure the catalyst to a chain reaction.

_Rey would beckon Ben Solo down with a whisper of Sith and feel sensual and proud, a wanton woman with her lover wrapped around her little finger. She would praise him for his nimble fingers in an ancient language as he nuzzled her hair, tendrils of the Dark suffusing them, like the first burn of Corellian whisky that scorched your throat._

Rey’s finger was steady in its movement now, just the one, a pointed tool of pleasure drawing rhythmic, _delightful_ circles that sunk deep into her pelvis, warm and suffusing. Her free hand skated across her chest, briefly clutching her breast and moving upwards, holding her jaw before gently clasping around her throat. She felt giddy; powerful, blissful and safe in her pleasure.

_Her hips would roll, her behind pressing into his crotch and Ben would let out a hiss, the likes of which she’d only heard when a wayward staff strike would clip his fingers._

_Ben would bite down on her shoulder, the sensation a heady delight as his fingers continued strumming their wicked tune, coaxing her higher and higher and higher, the tension in her pelvis building._

Rey let out a strangled gasp, the nails of one hand digging into the skin of her shoulder as those delicious lightning sensations erupted, her fingers still circling, circling, _circling_ , eking out every last drop of pleasure, chasing every sensation her body had left to give as she imagined Ben above her, an almost startled look in his eyes.

She closed her eyes and whimpered his name through the aftershocks, her bright, cottony brain wanting, more and more and _more_.

Eventually, her breathing slowed. Her eyes were closed, her finger still idly tracing feather light circles and she held onto the image of Ben hovering above her, his broad, massive torso blocking out the light from her window. With a satiated sigh — both happy at the result and slightly miffed it was over — Rey hauled herself out of bed to the small, en-suite to wash up.

Suitably freshened, Rey pulled off her panties and tossed them into her washing pile, pulling a clean pair on and falling back into bed, quickly drifting into a content, restful slumber.

 

———————————— 

Across the base, Ben Solo was sitting bolt-upright in bed, his cock hard, and mind reeling.

The sheets to his left were rumpled, a faint footprint of Rey’s body visible in the dappled moonlight streaming through the blinds.


End file.
